1,000 Paper Cranes
by bluedragon1836
Summary: Lisbon is sick and Jane sets about to cheer her up by making 1,000 paper cranes.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first "Mentalist" fanfic so I apologize if my characters are a little OCC. Please read and enjoy.**

**1000 Paper Cranes**

Patrick Jane held up the paper creation in the palm of his hand and grinned. It was scarlet and gold, bright and beautiful, sure to cheer up anyone's day. Jane tucked his prize carefully in a pocket and headed out the door to his car, smiling as he thought about the person receiving his paper present.

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Teresa Lisbon blew her nose miserably as she lay on her couch, staring at the TV screen blankly. She hated colds. Hated them with a passion. Now here she was, stuck at home, sick and downright miserable. There was a sudden brisk knock at the door followed by the sound of the door opening and cheerful footsteps coming her way. Moments later, a grinning Patrick Jane stood before her, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Lisbon glared at him, not in the mood for his cheerfulness. "Do you always just walk into someone's house uninvited?"

"No, just yours," he replied. "And only when you don't feel well enough to answer the door."

She sighed. "What do you want, Jane?"

"To see how you were doing. And I have a present for you." He pulled something bright from his pocket, messed with it a moment, and presented it to her. Lisbon took it gently. It was an origami crane, made of red and gold paper. She looked back up at Jane's expectant face.

"It's beautiful. Did you make it?"

He nodded. "That's one. Only nine hundred ninety-nine to go." Lisbon raised her eyebrows and Jane hurried on, noting that she wasn't in the mood for games. "According to legend, if you make one thousand paper cranes, people who are sick will get better. You're sick and I'm making them for you."

"You actually believe that making a thousand paper cranes is going to make me better?"

Jane shrugged. "Nah, but it'll still be fun. And it will help cheer you up." He grinned again. "I'll be back." Almost before Lisbon could realize he was leaving, Jane was gone, the front door clicking shut behind him. Lisbon looked at the paper crane in her hand, smiled, and laid it on the coffee table where she could look at it.

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Jane came again the next morning, looking like he hadn't slept at all the night before. In his hands was a bag that rustled with the sound of paper objects.

"Good morning," he greeted cheerfully, his tone contrasting with the weariness LIsbon could see in his eyes.

"Stay up all night making paper cranes?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"At least tell me you went home last night."

Jane glanced away sheepishly. "The couch was more comfortable. I did go home early this morning to get some things," he added quickly upon seeing Lisbon's disapproving look.

"Well, good, you actually set foot in your house," she replied sarcastically. Jane grinned again, but Lisbon thought she could see a hint of sadness just behind his eyes. He handed her the bag he was carrying and she sat up to peek inside.

"Do you have any tea?"

"No, I don't."

"Then it's a good thing I brought my own." He pulled several tea bags from his pocket and headed for the kitchen while Lisbon reached into the bag and began pulling out cranes.

"Don't forget to count them," called Jane so she did. Two, three, four, five . . .

Lisbon stared in amazement at the pile on her coffee table. Ninety-nine plus the first one made one hundred paper cranes, each made of different paper.

"One hundred down, nine hundred to go." Lisbon turned her incredulous stare towards the kitchen, silent because she couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Speechless. Wow." She could hear the smile in his voice. He walked in, carrying two cups of tea. Placing one in front of Lisbon, he seated himself in an armchair and sipped quietly.

"You made all these last night?" Lisbon asked. He nodded. She shook her head at him and leaned back into the couch.

"I should let you rest," Jane said abruptly, standing. "Enjoy your tea." Lisbon waved and then he was gone, the only remainder of his presence the pile of paper cranes on the table.

**Wow, the below part was totally like the wrong author's note! I use this same document for all my stories I'm uploading and I didn't replace the author's note. Silly me! Oh well! Thanks so much for answering my question those that have and keep answering it those just reading.**

**Sad, I know. Sorry about that. Please review and please answer my question which was, for those of you too lazy to scroll back up and refresh your memories, "If you could see time, what would it look like?" Do not say "I don't know" because that answer is unhelpful and unexceptable. I want to hear your answers because a) I am curious and b) I am doing research for an original story I am thinking of writing about a man who can see time. Yeah. So review and answer:) Thanks so much for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Firstly, I wanted to apologize to anyone who was confused by the author's note at the bottom of the previous chapter. It was totally the wrong one! It was actually for a Doctor Who story I posted just a few minutes before this one (when I write fanfiction, I tend to post in groups for whatever reason). Anyway, thanks to everyone who answered that question. I got a lot more answers to it than I expected. Thanks also to my readers and reviewers. You are greatly appreciated. Now, on to chapter two!**

Lisbon was asleep when Jane came by that evening. He watched her for a moment, a sad smile on his face, as her sleeping form brought back a memory of another night when he had come home to find his wife asleep on the couch, waiting for him. Jane shook his head slightly to clear the memory away and placed thirty more cranes quietly on the table. Giving one last look at his boss, Jane left, softly closing the door behind him.

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Lisbon didn't feel any better when she woke up the next morning. If anything, she felt worse. Her nose wouldn't stop running and her head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton balls. Needless to say, when Patrick Jane waltzed in, grinning, she was in a much less than pleasant mood.

"You look miserable," he told her brightly.

"And you look entirely too happy," Lisbon grumped back, though she noticed the circles under the consultant's eyes were darker than ever. Jane handed her the bag full once again with paper crances and moved away into the kitchen, probably to make more tea. As before, Lisbon began to count, but before she could start, Jane reappeared.

"I made thirty more yesterday if you didn't notice. Don't forget to count those." Then he had disappeared again. Lisbon listened to him puttering about the kitchen, humming tunelessly to himself, and then began counting. One hundred thirty-one, one hundred thirty-two, one hundred thirty-three . . .

Lisbon couldn't help but smile as she admired the two hundred eighty cranes on her table. It was obvious that Jane was using whatever materials he could find: wrapping paper, newspaper, magazines, and who knew what else. Laughing softly, she picked up a smaller crane made from a sticky note. There was a clatter from the kitchen and Lisbon realized that Jane had had more than enough time to make tea.

"What're you doing in there?" she asked, contemplating getting up to go see.

"Making you some chicken soup. You don't have to get up, I'm know what I'm doing." Lisbon froze and settled back.

"You can cook?"

Jane laughed. "Barely, but I can make chicken soup. It's my specialty."

"If you say so," Lisbon teased.

"Now, now, don't judge 'till you've tried it." She heard him get out silverware and a bowl. Soon, he was standing before her, bowl of soup balanced on a plate. Lisbon sat up and he placed the plate on her lap with a smile. Expectantly, he watched as she took a sip. Her eyebrows went up in pleasant surprised.

"It's good."

"See? What did I tell you?" Lisbon smiled and had another spoonful while Jane sat down in the armchair, pulled several partially-folded cranes from his pocket, and continued his work.

"So, how did chicken soup become your specialty?" Lisbon asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"I used to make it for my wife and daughter when they were sick."

"Oh," she said quietly and was silent. Jane set a crane on the table.

"Two hundred eighty-one," he stated and began another. Lisbon finished her soup and Jane, ever observant, was there to whisk it away to the kitchen.

"Do you want more?" he asked.

"Not right now, thanks." He nodded and seated himself again. Lisbon blew her nose before lying back down, curling into a ball under her blanket. Jane watched her for a brief moment and placed another crane on the table. As he began work on the two hundred eighty-third crane, his weariness began to catch up with him until at last he allowed his eyes to gently close.

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Lisbon drifted in and out of sleep, trying to ignore her pounding head and stuffy nose. Eventually, she could stand it no longer and sat up, grabbing a tissue as she did so. She blew her nose miserably and was about to curl up again when she saw that Jane was still sitting in her armchair. She smiled a little when she saw that he was asleep, hands in the midst of folding another of his paper cranes. His face was relaxed into a small smile and Lisbon could tell he was dreaming.

Suddenly, his expression changed, becoming fearful and apprehensive. Lisbon's smile faded. Jane's breathing became faster, more agitated. His mouth moved, silently forming a single word: "no." With sudden wrenching clarity, Lisbon knew exactly what he was seeing. She called his name, her voice hoarse and scratchy, but it had no effect. Her concern mounted as he became increasingly panicked, the blood draining from his face. Finally, with a strangled sound, his eyes flew open, wide, scared, and anguished. As his mind registered where he was, Jane closed his eyes again, trying desperately to calm down and erase the images burning in his mind.

"Are you okay?" Lisbon asked, knowing that it was a stupid question but not knowing what else to say. Jane nodded wordlessly, not having to look to know that her green eyes were watching him with concern and pity.

"Is that why you haven't been sleeping?" she pressed gently. He nodded again and stood up, pacing.

"My daughter's birthday was today," he said quietly, not looking up.

Lisbon's expression changed to one of understanding and sympathy. "I'm sorry." He nodded a third time before looking up and flashing her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You should rest. I'll be back later with more cranes."

Lisbon wanted to argue that she wasn't tired, but had the feeling that Jane needed to be alone for a little while so she said simply, "Okay." Gently, Jane tucked the blanket in around her and was gone. Lisbon stared after him, knowing exactly what he must be going through.

**Yes, this is the correct author's note:D This chapter really is sad. Sorry. I'm not sure where the birthday thing came from. It just ended up on the paper and later on my laptop. Hope you guys are still enjoying the story. There will be one more chapter probably. Reviews are loved:)**


	3. Chapter 3

**The last chapter! How exciting! The conversation in this chapter came out of nowhere. I was just typing and there it was. Weird. Anyway, enjoy and thanks for reading.**

It was close to eight o'clock when the consultant came back, dumping a volley of cranes onto the coffee table.

"Four hundred ten," he declared. "Almost half-way."

Lisbon looked at him hard. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Well, maybe not fine, but . . . I will be. I always am." For a moment, they looked at each other. Then Jane broke the silence, obviously growing a little uncomfortable.

"Want some more soup now?"

"Yes, please," Lisbon answered and sneezed twice.

"Bless you," Jane called from the kitchen. Lisbon smiled and admired the new additions to her paper crane collection.

"Is that all you've been doing? Making cranes?"

"Pretty much, but what with the absence of cases, there hasn't been anything else to do really." He didn't add that it helped him keep his mind away from . . . other things, but Lisbon heard the unspoken thought.

"So, what, you got bored annoying Rigsby and Van Pelt?"

"And Cho. Don't forget him."

"You don't annoy him and stop avoiding my question."

There was a silence a moment. "Well, sort of." He voice was slightly abashed and Lisbon smiled.

"Let me guess. You tried to annoy Minelli too, didn't you?"

"I . . . might have."

Lisbon laughed. "He threw you out, didn't he?"

"Maybe."

"Are you ever going to learn?" she asked, laughing again. Her laugh became a cough which became a sneeze.

"Bless you," said Jane again. "And please don't die while I'm here. It would look suspicious. Not to mention if you choked while I was here, I would have to preform CPR which might be embarrasing for both of us."

"Oh shut up, Jane."

"Yes, ma'am. Shutting up. Do you like your cranes?"

"I guess 'shut up' isn't a word in your vocabulary?"

"Just answer my question, woman."

"Yes. I like them very much."

"Good. I'm glad." He exited the kitchen and handed her a bowl of the left-over chicken soup he had reheated on the stove. Lisbon sipped it gratefully.

"I'm making tea as well. It should be ready any moment."

"Thank you," she said and meant it.

Jane grinned his thousand watt smile. "You're welcome." The kettle chose that moment to start whistling, sending the consultant bouncing back into the kitchen. Lisbon resumed eating, grateful she had a friend like Patrick Jane. Annoying and irritating as he could be, he was nice when it counted and she appreciated it at times like this.

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Over the next several days,, the pile of paper cranes grew and overflowed the coffee table. Lisbon's cold gradually got better until she was able to return to work. Her first day back was heralded by greetings from Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt who, it seemed, had been kept informed via the phone line about how she was doing by a certain blond, blue-eyed consultant. As Lisbon seated herself at her desk and began looking over the paperwork she had to fill to catch up, the consultant in question appeared in the doorway. Without saying a word, he placed a blue and silver crane on her desk.

"So, what number is this?" Lisbon asked.

"One thousand exactly. And look, you're all better." He smiled then and she couldn't help but smile back.

**The End**

**Thanks for reading. I can never say that enough. You guys reading and then reviewing keeps me writing and posting and generally puts me in a good mood (hint, hint). I'm trying to make 1000 paper cranes by the way, but I'm not even to 100 yet even though I started like last year:P Oh, well, it's the thought that counts right? Don't forget to review ~ Blue Dragon**


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